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“No photos this time, Butler.” The younger man nodded and his tan baseball hat bobbed in jerky movements.
Neither Vera nor Teddi moved, mindful of how close they were to the men without the shadow of nighttime to cover them. She was sure it would be life or death if any of the men discovered them witnessing what they were doing.
Deputy Butler worked quickly, sketching and writing notes as he walked around the edges of the crime scene. "Ok, Sheriff," he murmured and his voice was softer than Vera expected it to be.
The three of them came to stand around the stone once more. Whether in acceptance or resignation, they stared at the body of their coworker, now bloody, beaten, and cold.
“Make sure his wife doesn’t leave town. No more Grennan fuck-ups. Everyone stays locked down until this is over.” He stared down at Deputy Gunson’s body. Rolling his lip over the lump of dip, he spit black goo on the side of the rock. “Cat’s out of the goddamn bag now.”
Chapter 33
Teddi
“J, now isn’t a good time.” She answered the call as she climbed the small steps of the cellar. Standing over the opening in the floorboards, she watched as Vera closed the zipper on Deputy Gunson’s body bag.
“I found something from D.C.”
For a split second indecision split her in two. She could refuse the information and let Vera share her past on her terms. Or, get it now and figure out how to help her. “Tell me.” Spinning on her heel, she exited the abandoned building.
“Are you sure you want to know about this? You can’t go back.” J’s worry was evident, but the anticipation was stronger. She needed to know.
“I’m sure.”
“Fuck, alright.” Sighing hard, J shuffled something and then began a sentence that would change Teddi’s life forever. “Vera was being investigated for a double homicide.”The words plopped into her churning gut like droplets from a vial of poison. Small but so full of life-ending substance, she swayed.
“She was working undercover with a cult for about eight months. The details are still muddy, but from what I can tell the people who run this cult, The Unveiled, treat it like a family. They’re being investigated for manufacturing and distributing synthetic drugs that cause hallucinations and have killed a handful of people. They focus on drawing in street kids. Kids no one would miss. These are bad, bad people, T. Like, religious manipulation using vulnerable people kind of bad. When a teen went missing about a year ago, his father became outspoken about his son’s involvement in the group. He couldn’t get any mainstream traction but used social media to try to raise awareness and find him. The boy’s body showed up in D.C. shortly after. Because he’d been living on the street, the cops didn’t care and there was little investigation. It was ruled an accidental overdose and the kid was labeled a junkie.” J blew out a heavy breath before continuing. “After he hired a private investigator, the father tracked down the cult members and confronted one of its leaders, Adrian. According to Vera’s official report, he brought a gun with plans to murder him and a gunfight ensued. Both Adrian and the father died. Teddi? Are you there?”
“Go on.” Teddi rubbed her brow, checking that Vera was still inside.
J cleared her throat. “She was in a barn with the two of them when the altercation occurred. Her report of what happened doesn’t match the evidence. They opened an internal investigation and… well… ”
“Just say it,” she demanded breathlessly.
“They believe she killed both men and attempted to cover it up.”
The world tilted beneath her feet as a wave of dizziness hit so hard she reached out for something to hold onto.
“I don’t understand.” And then the memories of what Vera shared in the motel room came back. Her vague comments about getting in too deep, her messing up, the suspension, her mistrust in her job, and its ability to mete out justice. “I colored inside the lines and they walked. Over and over they would slip right out between the laws and go free. I did everything within my minuscule power to stop them, but it’s like a leak you can never plug.”
The powerlessness of her situation was evident in Vera’s words as she cried in Teddi’s arms. “No. No, that’s not true. I know her, I know she would never do something like that. It has to be wrong. They’re wrong or the report is wrong.” She remembered the fury she’d seen in Vera’s eyes. She’d never seen that look before. Never seen that kind of rage and malice.
“Fuck, Teddi. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” She shook her head, bringing on a new wave of dizziness. She asked and this was the answer.
Had Vera been trying to tell her all along? Had she killed two men and tried to cover it up? A suspension wasn’t given lightly, she knew something bad had gone down. Disbelief swirled. “Does the investigation appear legitimate? Her report?” The need to vomit everything inside her swelled. J said nothing. It was legit. It was real. “Tell me you’re sure, J. Tell me you’d bet your life on it.” Her voice cracked.
“It’s real.” The phone fell onto the wet ground with a thud that rattled her bones.
The trek back to the car was fraught with tension. Vera mentioned sending the images they took of Gunson’s body back to the OIA office but Teddi wasn’t listening. Her head was overflowing with blaring white noise. Her legs felt like they belonged to someone else as she slid into the passenger seat and rode back into town.
There were three options. The report was doctored or a major mistake had been made somewhere down the line from the minute the two men died and through the internal investigation. She forced herself to put the next words into a sentence. To say it to herself and admit it was a possibility.
Or Vera killed two people in cold blood.
She bit the inside of her cheek just to stop the tears from spilling out. It wasn't just what J had found. It was the fact that she let another innocent man be murdered right under her nose. They swabbed his body for evidence just like the others and it pushed her to the brink. He was dead because she was too busy being with Vera to open her eyes. She’d failed to do so at every angle. His death was on her hands just as Scott Reade's was. Maybe even Alex's was in some way. The guilt ate at her, taking chunks of her away as she sat in the bright diner, the fluorescent lights making a sweat break out on her brow.
“You need to eat something,” Vera murmured. The weight of what happened was strung between them. The secret of such barbaric treatment of each of those men's bodies was a toxic rope synching around their necks.
“We could have saved him." Her voice was hoarse as if all the screaming she was doing in her head had been audible.
